Affairs of the Heart

“What’s that?” I asked as a needle was inserted into my belly. “You’re going to be fine, my dear,” he said as I looked up into brown eyes hovering inches above mine. “Blood thinners and anti-arythmics to steady your heart from the afib…”

My first view into the doctor’s eyes from the emergency room table was full of gratitude. The next two visits they were less than heroic. But now I take the right meds, every day, three times a day.

This was the beginning of an illness I’ll have the rest of my life. Until then I’d been healthy and young…

Until then…

Illness makes one feel old and different from others. But being seventy itself isn’t an automatic induction into old age—yes, it’s a shock to hear yourself saying “I’m seventy!” –but unless you’ve been ill, it’s likely you’re still feeling quite young.

It has taken me five years to come back to health again—and to writing. Before the ER visits I’d just finished writing 4 books. These daily endeavors took me through my early sixties--but perhaps it was the strained discipline of writing and of  having ‘glued myself to the computer seat’ at seven am that brought about heart problems.

A lesson learned—I hope. This time writing will be interrupted by generous sprints of dog walking among other things…like tending to the pottery shop and clay studio (connected to the house) and by doing astrological readings (my real work)… but most of all, tending to the real affairs of the heart such as spending time with my husband, Harry, and daughter Sarah, her husband, Shane, and their two girls, Greta and Tallulah. 

As Harry inscribes on one of his large pottery bowls: “Love is the Only Ingredient that Really Matters.”